


where the beer chases my blues away

by elegantstupidity



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, POV Outsider, Pre-Ginny Baker/Mike Lawson, dive bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8440870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elegantstupidity/pseuds/elegantstupidity
Summary: Eliot invites some of his friends/coworkers to his latest gig.written for pitching prompts: Ginny finds a friend in Eliot.





	

“Thanks for coming out, everyone. We’re Bad Vaccine. See you next week.” 

 

Eliot tries hard not to grin at the raucous cheer that comes from the bar. He shrugs off the strap of his bass guitar and zips it into his case before ducking off the stage. Since no one usually wants to talk to the bassist after a gig, he heads straight to the bar and his loudest (only) fan. 

 

She slides a lager over to him and raises her own. “Nice set, superstar.”

 

Eliot snorts at the irony of Ginny Baker calling him a superstar. Still, he clinks glasses and takes a sip. 

 

Ginny gives him a nudge with her elbow and nods back over to the stage where his band's lead guitarist is holding court with four or five women, each hanging on his every word. "Shouldn't you be schmoozing with your fans?" she asks with a lighthearted grin. 

 

Eliot laughs and shakes his head with a rueful grin. "Yeah, I'm not the reason they come to our shows." 

 

He wants to laugh again at how offended Ginny looks on his behalf. She's a good friend. Which is possibly the most surreal thing about his life. (Eliot knows his mom would say that it's surreal that he gets paid to surf the internet all day, but he knows she's just disappointed he didn't stick with the piano.) Once he got over being so star struck, and he started giving Ginny her weekly social media updates like a normal human, they hit it off. He'll never admit it, but when Ginny called to quiz him before the trade deadline, he'd been ecstatic. 

 

That was when he decided to become her friend. The ordeal after the Nike party only solidified his resolution. Ginny Baker was a tough nut to crack, but Eliot was nothing if not persistent. Slowly, he'd worked on gaining her confidence, offering up little tidbits about himself and treasuring everything she gave in return. He learned about her brother and her dad and growing up in North Carolina in exchange for stories of growing up in the Bay and his three younger sisters. 

 

This week, though, she'd been complaining about having nothing to do, not knowing anything about San Diego. Apparently, Blip is playing host to his in-laws and running himself ragged trying to keep Evelyn's father content. The image would be enough to send Eliot into a fit of laughter, but Ginny'd looked so lonely as she told him. He couldn't help but want to wrap her up in a blanket and give her a cup of cocoa until she felt better. However, since Ginny Baker didn't take particularly well to being coddled, he'd had to come up with a different solution.

 

Which was how they got here. With Ginny Baker sitting at the bar of the diviest dive in San Ysidro, drinking crappy beer and listening to his band. 

 

Eliot's still not quite sure that this is a real thing. 

 

An uncertainty that isn't helped by the fact that  _that_ is Mike Lawson shouldering his way through the crowd. 

 

When Ginny notices that Eliot's attention firmly isn't on her story about pranking Voorhies and Nguyen last week, she turns to follow his gaze. She freezes as she catches sight of the Padres captain in the crowd before whipping back around. 

 

" _What_ ," she hisses, "is he doing here?"

 

Huh. Suddenly, Mike Lawson cornering him in the clubhouse just after he'd finished chatting with Ginny makes much more sense. "Oh. I invited him." Which was the truth. But it only came after a few minutes of the catcher fishing for info on Ginny first. Somehow, Eliot doesn't think it'll help the man's case if he tells Ginny that, though. "Shouldn't I have?"

 

She narrows her eyes, like he's a batter she's trying to read. Eliot does his best to keep his expression innocent. So what if he'd noticed how down Ginny had been lately? How quick she is to wriggle out of situations that involve any extended time with one, Mike Lawson? And, well, if he'd noticed how confused and gutted Lawson looked every time the pitcher walked away, Eliot would never tell. 

 

Slowly, Ginny shakes her head. "No. No, it's fine. Just haven't seen him much lately. I figured he'd be busy with A—" she cuts herself off and takes a sip of beer.

 

Ah. There it is. Eliot hadn't realized that Ginny knew about Mike and Amelia, though it does explain some of her annoyance. Still, he doesn't want to push her, not if she's really hurt. "Should I go distract him so you can leave?"

 

She grins, though it's got none of the force of her real smiles. "Nah. I'd hate to leave you with just his sorry company." She does drain her glass and signal for another, so Eliot isn't sure how much she means it. 

 

Unfortunately, he doesn't have a chance to double check because Mike Lawson has finally spotted them. 

 

"Hey, man! Don't tell me I missed the music!" The way Lawson's eyes refuse to settle on the woman at Eliot's side says more than if he'd been unable to take his eyes off her. 

 

"Just by a few minutes," Eliot responds.

 

"Huh. Well, next time you'll have to play somewhere that's not at the ass-end of nowhere," Mike Lawson grins, aggressively cheerful. 

 

"Not all of us can live in La Jolla, old man," Ginny pipes up, a little venom in her words. 

 

Mike casually turns his attention to her. _Well, he_ tried _to look casual,_  Eliot qualifies silently. The face that Mike Lawson's attention has been on Ginny Baker since the moment he laid eyes on her isn't up for debate. That Ginny refuses to look at him only seems to egg him on. 

 

"Oh, rookie. Hardly even saw you there. You've been a hard woman to track down."

 

She shrugs, takes a pull of beer. "Easy enough for my friends to get a hold of."

 

"Is that so?" Mike's still grinning, but even beneath the beard, Eliot can tell his jaw is clenched. 

 

"Yep."

 

"So, I guess I should take all those ignored calls as a signal?"  


 

_If Mike Lawson was aiming for a joke, he fell woefully short,_ Eliot can't help but think with a sympathetic wince. The question came out somewhere between a plea and a defeated sigh. 

 

For her part, Ginny just raises her eyebrows, a silent  _Well, I didn't say it._  

 

The catcher, a true San Diego legend, scrubs his hand through his beard and angles himself into the young woman doing her best to remain unaffected by his proximity. "Ginny, please. Can you just—"

 

"No," she practically spits, finally making eye contact. Eliot is glad she doesn't turn that fury on him. He'd be scorched where he sits. Somehow, Lawson withstands the fire, looking pained but steadfast. "Don't you have a date or something?"

 

Mike rocks back on his heels, like that was the last thing he was expecting from her. "A date?"

 

She looks away from her captain and back to her drink. Fussily, she picks at the soggy cocktail napkin beneath her glass, but answers, "Yeah. With Amelia."  


 

It's strange, seeing a major leaguer, a man with enough experience under his belt that nothing should really knock him for a loop, imitate a deer in the headlights so well. Eliot is transfixed. He's not even annoyed that they've both forgotten he's right there. How couldn't they with this mess festering between them?

 

"Right," Lawson says, a little woodenly. "With Amelia. So, she told you?"

 

Ginny nods, staring at her glass like she's trying to shatter it through sheer force of will. 

 

"Good. Uh. I'm glad. That she told you. Not that we weren't telling you. Just, uh—"

 

She puts him out of his misery. "It's fine, Lawson."

 

"You sure?" Ginny nods, not that she can really do anything else. Lawson exhales, all the bravado he'd swaggered in with whooshing out with his breath. "I should—um. I should go. Sorry I missed your band man," he apologizes. Eliot is honestly shocked that the man even remembered his cover for coming out tonight, so focused had he been on the young pitcher. Before Eliot can say anything in response, though, Mike Lawson turns and shoulders his way back to the door. The crowd easily fills the vacuum his absence left behind and soon, it was as if he'd never been there at all. 

 

If not for the expression on Ginny Baker's face. 

 

A lot of people, upon finally being left alone by someone who has hurt them would let that pain show. They'd crumple, even just a bit. 

 

Ginny Baker, of course, is not a lot of people. Her face remains wooden as she stares at her half drunk glass. Strong, callused fingers wrap around the damp surface, going bloodless from the force of her grip. 

 

"Are you—"

 

"Eliot. I swear to God, if you finish that sentence with 'okay,' I am throwing this beer on you."

 

He swallows, nods. "Hungry? There's usually this food truck around here about now. They've got these really good chilaquiles."

 

Ginny's grip doesn't loosen from her glass, but she does look his way. "What about a burger?"

"Come on! You've got to expand your culinary horizons!" he laughs. 

 

She fights back a smile and demands, "Says who?"

 

"Me. Your dietician, probably." That finally earns a laugh and Eliot is grateful to watch the tension in her shoulders melt away. 

 

"I'm pretty sure my dietician would also warn me away from sketchy street food," she muses.

 

"Hey! Don't knock El Truck Nuestro until you try it!"

 

"I don't know," she teases, tossing a few bills on the bar and standing, Eliot scrambling to follow. "Can I really trust a guy who doesn't even bother to draft me for his Fantasy baseball team?"

 

He groans, paying for his own drinks and shouldering his bass. "I told you, my keeper was a—"

 

"Pitcher. Yeah, yeah. Still, you could've figured out a way to put me in. Some friend you are."

 

Normally, Eliot would defend himself, keep Ginny talking and her mind off whatever's dragging her down, (Which is unfortunately her captain and his boss in this case. Eliot doesn't want to touch that situation with a ten-foot pole.) but he's struck. It's a throwaway comment, just some light teasing, but it's really the first time that Ginny has acknowledged that he's not just her social media manager/tech nerd. Eliot and Ginny Baker are _friends_. 

 

And, well. If that's not enough to make his night, then maybe some chilaquiles will do the trick.

**Author's Note:**

> Eliot is a cinnamon roll and I need him to have a last name in the very near future.
> 
> Also, I know nothing about San Diego geography. I'm just happy I didn't actually make up neighborhood names. Also again, apparently El Truck Nuestro is a real thing that actually serves chilaquiles in Tijuana, which is just over the border from San Ysidro. I haven't not been craving chilaquiles, which isn't not the reason I put them in. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm iffy on the ending, but I couldn't think about it any more. Is it too abrupt? Does it hinge too much on Mexican brunch food? Let me know with a comment here or on [tumblr](http://www.megaphonemonday.tumblr.com)!


End file.
